


KING OF DIAMONDS (Pick Your Poison)

by R_ATIN



Category: SB19 (Band)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Gang Lord Stellvester Ajero, Gun Violence, M/M, Mafia Boss Stellvester Ajero, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27506704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_ATIN/pseuds/R_ATIN
Summary: “If someone lays a finger against you, sever the finger, sever the offender and feed them to the vultures. Allow no one step to step too close. Slaughter before you are slaughtered. ”
Relationships: Stellvester "Stell" Ajero & John Paulo Nase | Sejun, Stellvester "Stell" Ajero/John Paulo Nase | Sejun
Comments: 33
Kudos: 49





	1. The Panther

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt to write action/blood & violence.  
> ***Heed the warnings!***  
> Graphic depictions of violence ahead.  
> Kindly skip if uncomfortable.
> 
> Mini chaptered fic, max of 3 as planned. Lower your expectations juseyo.

* * *

**CHAPTER I. THE PANTHER**

* * *

_Footsteps._

_One._

_Two._

The man behind the shadows extends a finger for each footstep, mentally counting every single distinct sound that rings in his ear.

_Three._

_Ten._

_Fifteen…_

The man believes there are more or less about twenty pairs of booted feet jostling past the ground floor of the warehouse ruins. More noises and barely muted tones of gun trigger clicks, whispers, and radio static pool inside his ears all at once, transporting clear-cut details straight to his brain, and almost like a movie, it plays inside his mind in lucid images.

He squeezes his eyes shut, opens them and closes them again to listen closer, enduring the tension in his stomach inconveniently caused by his own impatience. He counts again. He can’t be mistaken; there are approximately twenty armed men swarming around the building.

Making rapid shallow breaths through his mouth, the headiness of the jet black air cuts through his throat and parches his lungs. He hears them again much clearer. The stomps move in closer to his spot, and his fist tightens around the hilt of his blade. He gently pulls the hem of his scarlet cap a little above his brows and wipes a pearl of sweat trickling along the sharpness of his jawline with a flick of his finger.

He is ready, and he does not fear. He is ready, but he waits. He waits in the dark like a Panther, calming his heart that is threatening to explode inside his chest, flailing, gnarling in madness, and for blood lust.

_Predators wait._

Dead bodies, he already sees them in his mind, and he smiles. He wants it, hungry for it. But he lies low and settles in a grimy curve near the entrance, merging with the darkness. He licks his scarlet lips, the scent of looming blood hangs thick in the air, and he can almost taste it.

The man hears the footsteps slowly die down, approaching, but they are there. _Almost there,_ roughly five meters away. The footsteps disperse into different directions, surrounding the perimeter. He senses more than half has gone to somewhere else, leaving him with at least five pawns to play with.

He thumbs the leather shaft of his blade, waggles it around his fingers before snapping and gripping it even tighter, enough to pulverize it if he wants to.

_Closer._

_Anytime now._

The first booted toe emerges from the entrance. He observes the preys take measured but quick steps, until all five of them, each one systematically armed and uniformed, shove past inside. The Panther stays in his place, but he begins to move. Every breath, every foot fall is light, smooth, but unmistakably fatal. He’s right, and he smirks. _These dumbasses._

He steps forward in a feral crouch, the mark of a predator in pursuit of his prey; his mouth waters as he advances to the person at the back of the line. As soon as the first belt of sunlight catches on his titanium blade, the Panther strikes.

He tackles down his first prey that was merely a couple of seconds too late in pulling the trigger of his rifle, when the glistening tip of the blade sinks into his neck without warning, and a hot, thick mantle of crimson spurts out from the already-mangled flesh. But nothing stops the Panther as he further hits the bloodied man square in the face with a closed fist. A fading, anguished cry trembles the surface before a string of gunfire pulsates between the walls. The other four spin around and face him with blatant dread and panic marking across their faces.

The Panther wastes no time as he swoops down and propels a leg high up and his combat boot catches the neck of the second prey, helmet hurling into the air. He rapidly snatches a handful of his hair and yanks the prey’s head down in time to meet his knee, smashing it head-on and breaking his nose. He slams his face again, and again, until teeth and blood sprays out of his butchered nose and mouth and stains the Panther’s jeans before wrenching the prey’s neck once with a crack that pierced through the air.

He knows the man is dead and hoists the lifeless body up at the last minute, using it as protection against the storm of bullets from the three remaining men that ravaged the remains of his prey. The smell of burnt flesh fills his nose as he tosses the mutilated body aside and curls down, snarls like a feline before surging forward with the haste of a firebolt. With one swift maneuver, he reaches for the small handgun wedged in the leather belt strapped around his leg and shoots down the light bulb.

The turf now blanketed in shadows, he topples over and sprints to his next target and in the blink of an eye, his blade swings forward into the prey’s throat, and another swing of the blade lands right at the back of his neck with graceful dexterity. The man holds his neck, and gurgles with blood, sloppily whizzing from the slit in his neck before falling into the ground.

The Panther crinkles his nose with a sinister smile as he walks slowly toward the two remaining prey. He tosses his blade into the air and catches it with one hand, a new blade appearing on his other hand out of nowhere.

Whatever strategy they plotted a few hours before raiding the Panther’s den surely has gone to waste, as the two remaining preys succumb to a panic attack and either of them attempts to escape, screaming in frenzy. He watches them in disappointment yet understands their horror. But the Panther knows no compassion.

Not when even the mere sound of the Panther’s name brings forth fear and turmoil to everyone who hears it, as though they were summoning catastrophe.

Another string of gunfire and a barrage of screams thundered around the area, and he smiles, knowing the chaos comes from the second floor where most of the Panther’s trusted men lurk, all geared up and thirsty for power.

**_“Sorry,”_** He hums low and shrugs before shifting his arms inward and flinging both blades with lightning speed. Neither of the two had the chance to flee as the first blade plunges straight into the heart of his fourth prey, while the other blade breaches right into the eyeball of the fifth prey. The blade lodges itself into the pulps of his brain, convulsing violently before quietly slumping onto the pavement to dry rot.

The Panther turns to the only remaining prey who is still struggling to drag the blade out of his vested chest with a pained cry. And when he finally succeeds, the Panther smiles warmly before pulling the trigger of his handgun pointed straight into the other’s head. A deafening blast cracks into the air as blood splatters right into the Panther’s face. The body of his last prey drops into the ground, body muscles twitching amidst the strewn pink matters that used to be his brain.

_“If someone lays a finger against you, sever the finger, sever the offender and feed them to the vultures._

_Allow no one step to step too close. Slaughter before you are slaughtered. ”_

The Panther breathes in, the putrid scent of metal and salt draping around the barren space; he takes it all in with delight. He stirs with a loud thumping of his pulse resonating within his skull; lust seeping into his pores as he wipes a speckle of dark red blood with the back of his palm.

He smiles, adjusting his earpiece and pressing a nub until a faint static is heard. He waits for someone to pick up his call, and clicks his tongue upon hearing a single beep from the other line that signifies a response.

**_“Ken?”_** the Panther mumbles into the minuscule microphone, waits a little more before the static fades along with the muffled sounds of gunshots. His shoulder drops in relief. **_“Kenji? Hey. Are you okay? Or am I talking to his ghost?”_**

**_“Oy, Stell?”_** Ken answers, and Stell can place the slight panic in his best friend’s voice that makes him sneer. The softness has not changed. ** _“Where are you?”_**

**_“Right where you left me, dummy! I just had a little…fun,”_** Stell smirks, eyeing the mass of severed limbs and blood pooled around his feet. **_“Have you secured the supplies? Did we lose any of our men?”_**

Stell wipes the bloodstains from his twin blades against the material of his pants. Another static is heard and he taps into his in-ear. **_“We lost three, but the area has been cleared. Stell, just head to the back now. We gotta go!”_**

**_“Alright, alright! You big baby,”_** he groans, brushing a thumb along the surface of the silver metal of his lethal dagger and decides that he really has to go.

Tossing one last glance at the litter of corpses beneath him, he thinks he must have enjoyed playing with these poor pawns more than he should that he almost forgets the need to drop by the supermarket later on to get some ingredients for tonight’s dessert.

Mango Graham has been on top of his priority list since the week before but all thanks to some unwanted distractions with his business and a few leeching moles that were attempting to steal from his shipment, he most unfortunately couldn’t find the time to make one at home. Stell shakes his head, knowing his people just won’t learn despite the countless warnings he delivers that one DOES NOT LIE to, let alone STEAL from The Panther.

Stell giggles as he struggles to keep his thoughts to nothing aside from his Mango Graham. He sighs and resolves that tonight; he will definitely make time for his dessert. He makes sure of it with an excited pump of his fist in the air. He twirls on his heels and grooves to unheard music as he begins to vacate the abandoned warehouse. But his mini-celebration quickly breaks into a halt with a subtle flinch when someone comes to reveal himself from the dark, effectively blocking Stell’s exit.

The Panther stops briefly, lips steadily arching into a teasing smile as his gaze fluctuate between the mouth of the pistol that is now pointed right at him, and to the face of the man holding the gun. He watches as the man spews his tobacco away from his lips and onto the cemented floor, all before a veil of white smoke pours lavishly out of his mouth.

Stell whisks a stray clump of hair that fell in between his eyes using his finger with the grace of a cloud. The bored look on his eyes slowly lights up, now flickering with a gaze of what can only be delight and malice at the sight of the beautiful man who dares point a gun at his presence. It is the man whose name resonates with valor within the National Police Force, the same dauntless soul who has steadfastly pursued him during the last five years.

**_“Well, what do you know?”_** the man that holds the pistol grunts in a voice, rich in gravel and ashes. **_“It’s over, Panther.”_**

Sejun Nase, the man they called _The Hunter._


	2. The Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunter, Superintendent Sejun Nase is finally face to face with the Panther, Stellvester Ajero.
> 
> Again, with graphic depictions of violence so please, please, please skip if uncomfortable.  
> Also, there's a bit of fluff and romance. I'm not quite confident with this chapter to be honest. Yes, even with the long slump, I dare say, I still came up with something crappy. But anyway, I guess I just have to throw it out there or it never will see the light of day.
> 
> Thoughts please?

* * *

CHAPTER II: THE HUNTER

* * *

Chief Superintendent Sejun Nase stands undisturbed as wrought iron, both his calloused hands that witnessed and laved on bloodshed and obsession during the last five years of his career, held like a vice-grip around the shank of an HK45 pistol. He glares with razors and smirks with poison at the man who stands on the other end of his firearm, mirroring his eyes of pure travesty and deceit.

**_“Finally,”_** Sejun Nase spats to the ground, his own breath that reeks of a freshly-murdered tobacco that melds with the stench of raw blood sail into the sweltering air between him and the man in front of him. He takes a quick glimpse at the mess of corpses of his comrades cluttered on the same ground where he stands and he grits his teeth. **_“It’s over, Panther.”_**

Stell pouts and chuckles dryly, a little disappointed at the lack of welcome greetings which he had so long-awaited, especially from a well-respected man such as The Hunter himself.

**_“Well, hello to you too,”_** Stell greets instead; speaking in amusement as he smoothly reaches into his back and fishes out an entirely different gun from the belt of his pants. Now pointed to the Hunter is Stell’s own infamous Colt Python Revolver. The man hardly ever uses his most treasured handgun, but today, he makes a definite exception. **_“Hunter, we finally meet.”_**

Sejun Nase grins, tilting his head on both sides, letting some wicked bones crack with satisfaction. His team has been tracking down this man for nearly five years. The man, known as the Panther, the most treacherous mafia mastermind in the peninsula; feared by thousands, murdered hundreds, took dozens and dozens of his squad down over the years. 

He knows The Panther isn’t an easy target, never was. How he does everything efficiently in the dark is something he has yet to uncover. For someone who glides like an angel mist, he slaughters like a deranged beast. The Panther is as beautiful as he is dangerous. 

The soft features of this man’s face and his voice that sounded like a wind chime impeccably concealed the amount of blood and massacre permeating his veins. But now, Sejun Nase has him right where he wanted him to be, against the mouth of his death grip.

Sejun Nase watches cautiously as the Panther tilts his head to the side, and a muffled sound of static and commanding voice rings from what seemed to be an earpiece. Stell smiles meaningfully at him and puts his armed hand down before hooking his favorite pistol into the waist of his tight-fitting, grey plaid pants. 

**_“It’s nice meeting you,”_** Stell says with a composure that never falters. He puts his gun down before hooking it back onto the strap around his waist. **_“But I really have to go. So, see you around?”_** He says rather hopefully, casually fixing the collar of his leather jacket and brushing invisible dirt from its sleeve.

Stell takes a step back, careful not to stomp on the scattered pieces of body parts on the ground. He keeps his eyes fixed on the man in front of him, whose pistol is still locked and loaded and pointed straight at his clothed chest. He knew that with one gentle flick and he’s done for.

But Stell is the Panther, the impossible, the untouchable. No one is ever capable of laying a finger on him, much less kill him.

**_“Not so fast, pretty.”_** Sejun Nase huffs with a smile that is both coy and disturbing at once. He lowers his gun down and throws it across the damp pavement, an ear-splitting noise of metal hitting the rut echoes in the dark aisle. Stell cocks an eyebrow, fancied interest brewing as he watches the Hunter’s every movement.

Sejun Nase pulls his sleeves and rolls them halfway through his well-built arms where marks of black ink against teal-hued veins barely reveal themselves under the dimly-lit port. He extends both arms and cracks the bones in his knuckles before shifting into a hand-to-hand combat stance.

Stell blurts out a brassy chuckle, crosses his arms in disbelief, and shakes his head, his gaze narrowing at Sejun. **_“Sweetie, you really can’t be serious right now.”_**

Instead of answering, Sejun Nase smirks and poises to leap in haste, targeting to flip a swift high kick but the Panther is ten times faster. Stell dodges the blow and at breakneck speed, takes a good grip around Sejun’s arms and drags him close enough to strike a foot twice against his stomach, and he does so with much force, throwing Sejun onto his back with a growl.

But Sejun is back on to his feet in no time and pounces on Stell quick, grabbing the Panther on his unzipped leather jacket, he spins him around and releases a solid punch against his jaw. Stell loses his balance and falls mid-way before Sejun is lurching onto him and slams the other man’s body to the cold pavement.

A strangled cry from Stell barely escapes from his mouth before he finds himself gasping for air as two hands from Sejun securely wraps around his throat.

The muscles around his windpipe burns, feeling the passage shrinking in a sweltering force and Stell thrashes his arms out and about, busting a gut to claw on the obscuring image of the man above his body but to no avail.

**_“Y-you got, ah — hah,”_** Stell manages to spit out, battling for the last ounces of oxygen as his vision continues to tarnish around the edges, steadily fading into a limbo. **_“Choking k-kink?”_**

Sejun sneers at the jest but the fraction of a second’s distraction was all that Stell needs before he’s already pulling the Hunter on the back of his head and gives him a crisp head-butt, fingers on his throat unclasping and he dives for a mouthful of air. Seizing the chance as Sejun stumbles backward, reeling from the head blow, Stell’s fist moves and collides on the Hunter’s temple before grabbing one of his arms and swings a leg under Sejun’s feet.

Stell tackles Sejun onto the wet ground, a whine echoes as the older man’s back hit the floor. Straddling atop Sejun, the Panther fumbles for the other’s earpiece and microphone and removes it all before throwing it into the air and hurls a blade along with it, the movement nearly unnoticeable. The edge of the blade catches the cables and the small gadget before it drops to the ground in fractured pieces.

**_“Fucker,”_** Sejun gnarls as he takes the opportunity to propel himself up and shove Stell through his chest as hard as he can, gripping the younger man’s wrists tightly that even his knuckles turn white, and rolls them over, pinning his arms above his head. 

**_“I’d let you,”_** Stell breathes. **_“I can switch.”_** He hisses, glaring at Sejun through the thick of his lashes, and the older man above snorts, that which takes Sejun’s focus wavering and his grip around Stell’s falters for barely a second. 

The Panther whips his one hand away and sculpts a balled fist up in warp speed and Sejun can make out the fleeting smirk that adorns Stell’s lips before he can even register that he is already falling backward, Stell’s clenched palm jabbing right against the bridge of his nose, his vision waning into blackness as his elbows hit the hard concrete, sending a ghastly jolt of pain through all the nerves in his body.

His nose and his head throb all over and everything is dissolved into a dark steam, gaze narrowing before hissing as a pair of strong hands hold his wrists and pin them above his head. Sejun flails and kicks amidst the momentary blindness and a warm strip of blood dribbles down his nose. He succeeds when his foot connects to hard muscle and Stell hisses through his teeth. 

**_“You think you can do shit?”_** Sejun hears the Panther growl in outrage before he howls to the abrupt blow on his gut that almost knocks the air out of his lungs. He shudders as he tastes the bile rising up his throat and coughs, spitting bitterly onto the pavement, and gulps a mouthful of air before he renews a fit of his struggles. Stell only makes a taunting wheeze.

**_“Fucking waste of time,”_** Stell mumbles in a stern voice, leaning over to clasp Sejun’s face between his grip and silencing the older man with a ringing slap across the face that snaps Sejun’s head to the side. The older man grumbles as he spits one more, a mix of drool and a trail of blood staining the wet floor.

Stell swallows the lump in his throat as he watches Sejun recoil in pain, remains unmoved, and the younger flaunts a mirthless smile.

**_“Stell!”_** the Panther flinches as Ken’s panic-stricken shout from his ear-piece echoes within his skull in between strings of static. He steps out of Sejun’s slumped figure on the ground as he yells back at Ken.

**_“Gago, Ken! You scared me!”_ **

****

**_“Gago ka rin. Where the hell are you? I told you we need to go!”_ **

****

**_“Fuck, okay, okay! I’m going!”_ **

Stell, once again, prepares to make his exit but even before he can spin around to toss one last glance at Sejun, he is already swinging with a solid yank on his wrist that makes him jump. But then, the Panther is always, always faster than his prey. He turns and lands a left hook straight into Sejun’s right cheekbone, making the older lose balance and tumble down the aisle once more, writhing in pain.

**_“Oh shit, I— “_** Stell falters in his words and in his tracks and for a moment, he becomes hesitant. But no, he can’t. He will not. _Let not doubt hold one captive_ , so it doesn’t last long. At last, he turns on his heels, albeit cautious, and intently sprints out to the backdoor after tossing one final look at Sejun, still sprawled face-down on the floor.

***

Stell pulls his car into the garage, flips the switch on and the mechanisms on the all-new massive steel barriers roar to life before drawing to a close with a thunderous bang. He scurries out of the vehicle, almost dashing toward the sliding glass front door before screeching to a halt, swearing in frustration and dragging a hand on his face as he remembers the stuff he left at the car seat.

_The groceries, you fool!_

He scrambles back into the car, grabs the heavy paper bag with both arms, and kicks the car door with his foot. Stell grins; he knows his being forgetful is becoming a habit. Ah, he’s not getting any younger and he smiles fondly at the idea. He looks up at the sky and the moon is full amidst a starless ocean of black and purplish clouds. For a moment, he stalls in the middle of the cobbled footpath leading to the doorway, closes his eyes, and breathes in a slightly chilly December breeze. 

It feels nice.

**_“Papa?”_ **

Stell is pulled from his murky pool of thoughts as the sweet, almost honey-coated melody caresses his ears. He opens his eyes to welcome a mop of messy black hair and bright toothy smile that, not too long after, comes running toward him. Oh! Stell knows what’s coming for him.

She bolts on her heels and in three powerful strides of her young muscled-legs, she reaches him and springs ecstatically into the air. Stell only had half a second to drop the bag of groceries and catch his daughter, which he does so seamlessly, thanks to his impeccable Panther reflexes. His daughter’s lithe body lands on both his arms and the impact sends them both into a spinning mess. 

While his little girl finds her minor exhibition of grace and agility gratifying, Stell exhales with a whimper, as both of them remain playfully swirling around the moonlit garden of their mansion. 

**_“Ivane, princess, don’t do that when my hands aren’t free. You might hurt yourself.”_** Stell groans as he peppers his daughter’s small face with kisses before dropping her on her feet.

She pouts, and Stell’s heart melts a bit more, so he leans over and kisses the pout away.

**_“Sorry, Papa. I just missed you! You were gone all day!”_** the pretty girl in yellow and pink silkened pajama pair tiptoes and wraps her arms around Stell’s waist. She grumbles when Stell crumples her hair.

**_“I missed you too baby. You know Papa’s busy at work right?”_ **

She nods, her eyes sparkling in wonder and understanding. 

**_“Yes Papa,”_** she mumbles, her eyes following Stell’s hands that went to grab the bag of groceries on the floor, and her eyes widened with interest. **_“Is that—? Are we making the dessert tonight?”_** she beams when Stell nods in approval.

**_“We sure are. Now go inside and tell Daddy to get ready for dinner, hmm?”_ **

****

**_“Oh, about that,”_** Ivane frowns, poking a finger against her cheek. **_“Daddy says he’s not feeling well. I think he’s sleeping. He looks, kind of, untidy when he got home.”_**

_Oh?_

_Oh._

**_“Okay baby. I’ll go and check on your Dad first then we’ll have dinner.”_** Stell ushers the both of them inside the mansion with Ivane hopping on her feet.

After organizing the grocery items into their individual cabinets, Stell quickly marches up the stairs, he leaves his dirty pair of combat boots on the shelf by the side of the door and slips into his comfortable pair of woolly strawberry flip-flops. Closing the door as quietly as he can, he almost tiptoes as soon as the sleeping figure of his husband and the chilled air gnaws at his skin. 

He shivers, and the sharp stench of sweat and dried blood on his soiled clothes begin wafting in the confined space. Phew! Shower. He needs to shower, fast. Sure enough, he glides quickly into the bathroom and sends the mud-encrusted articles of clothing flying straight into the hamper. 

Stell would’ve usually thrown bloodied clothes away into a furnace, watch them burn until nothing is left but coals and grit. But this was his favorite leather jacket, and his favorite plaid pants, and his favorite black shirt. Surely, he knows the rules, but he also knows the exceptions. He must remind himself never to pick these clothes again on a mission. 

At the bath, he fills his giant porcelain tub with lukewarm water and opens a few of his finest fragrant oils. Feeling content with the way the amber and lavender liquid spirals into the thick water, he sinks his foot in and everything sloshes modestly around his leg, some pouring above the rim. Soaking his body completely into the perfumed water, he lets out a sigh as his taut muscles began to ease and exhaustion washes over him like a tidal wave. 

He moans at how good it feels, his senses contending against sleep and grip. He lets a few rapid blinks drown all his sleepiness and opens his eyes wide, stares at the light, at the ceiling, his eyes wander around the sizeable bathroom painted in a sleek black and white and some golds in the furniture. Finally, his eyes fall down the tub.

He examines his nakedness under the water, can make out each and every dark bruise and cuts he nabbed from the fight this afternoon. His whole body is sore, from his scalp down to his toenails, and he smiles with pride at the perfection of his skin that was no longer there. He really is getting older, slower, and he is getting tired.

He decides to soak a bit more and lets his nimble fingers wrinkle to a crisp before he actually starts to bathe and scrub all the remaining grime in every crevice of his body. He scrubs gently, as tenderly as his husband holds him dear. His bruises and cuts seem to glow when the light catches on them, and Stell knows these will not fade soon enough. But at least he is certain that in his husband’s eyes, he will always be the most beautiful.

When he feels he is thoroughly clean, he pats himself dry with a plush cotton towel and slips into a comfortable pair of boxers before he heads out the door, the faint steam pouring along with him that has long since tainted the mirror hanging on the marbled wall.

When the cold air again bites on his skin, he trembles, not until his favorite pair of hazel brown eyes welcomed him with a smile, and the beautiful orbs all but turned into pretty half-moons. His husband is awake, so he carefully settles himself on the space beside him and snuggles close after planting an affectionate kiss on his lips.

**_“Hey,”_** Stell murmurs against his husband’s chest and the warmth of it almost suffocates him.

**_“Hey baby,”_** his husband responds with a crack in his voice. It sounded raspy, sickly, somewhat pained, but sexy nonetheless, Stell muses.

**_“Are you sick? Ivane said you’re not feeling well.”_ **

****

**_“Not sick. But my head hurts, and my face swells, plus I got my nose broken. My entire body is bruised but I’m okay, at least my dick ain’t dead.”_ **

****

**_“Ah, well,”_** Stell purses his lips and cannot open them again, doesn't want to. Instead, he blushes all the way to his back, silently wishes he can smack himself for even feeling remotely attracted to that, but he decides he doesn’t care.

**_“Uhm hmm. Seems we’ll have to skip fucking tonight. I can’t even feel my hips.”_** His husband explains, rubbing a hand along his back and his hip area, where Stell notices a string of black and bluish welts. His chest thumps, remorse creeping in but he doesn’t let it. So he chuckles and tries his best to cheer his husband.

**_“That’s fine,” Stell smiles. I’ll blow you anyway.”_ **

****

**_“You should. It’s all your fault,”_** his husband teases with a cock of an eyebrow and he laughs as Stell gets up quickly, obviously alarmed at the accusation. The younger has his arms crossed against his chest. He knows he was in for another scolding but Stell always looks cute, angry or not.

**_“You asshole. That’s because you weren’t taking your training seriously. And I told you to quit smoking, didn’t I? You’re not getting any younger. I swear to god, I’m gonna find all your tobaccos and thr—“_ **

A pair of moist lips silence Stell mid-sentence, rough fingers cup his cheek and while mildly surprised, pleasantly nonetheless, Stell willingly melts away into the touch and smiles into the kiss.

**_“Hush babe”,_** his husband commands quietly ** _. “You talk too much.”_**

****

**_“But babe— “_ **

****

**_“Be quiet and put those lips to better use, hmm?”_ **

There was no more response after it aside from the small whimper that escapes from Stell’s throat. His entire body becomes fluid and easily fuses into the warmth of his lover’s embrace. They would have kissed all night and run out of breath and not be bothered. But then Stell remembers his promise to make dessert with their daughter and with an eager protest, they untangle themselves from each other and laughed as they prepare to get out of the comfort of their bed.

**_“Silly. We have all night,”_** Stell assures his man. **_“I can stay at home all day tomorrow, if you’d like._**

****

**_“Tempting. –‘s okay,”_** his husband smiles. **_“I love you, Stell.”_**

And Stell fondly smiles back at that. 

**_“I love you too,”_** he kisses him ** _. “Sejun.”_**


End file.
